


Losing a Heart

by CosmicOcelot



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt, Hurt Bashir, M/M, Post-Episode: s04e26 Broken Link, emotional fall out, referenced attempted genocide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-05
Updated: 2019-11-05
Packaged: 2021-01-23 11:48:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21319693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CosmicOcelot/pseuds/CosmicOcelot
Summary: “Do – would you like me to call someone for you? Lieutenant Dax says that you have yet to speak to her about how the events of the past few days have...affected you.”Julian chuckles. “Well, be sure to tell Dax that when she can recall a past lover who attempted to murder her and an entire sentient species then maybe we can talk about it.”Fall-out from the Broken Link, except set in a universe where Garak and Julian had been together for a while before hand. A companion peice to Learning a Heart, but it doesn't have to be read to understand it.
Relationships: Julian Bashir/Elim Garak
Comments: 10
Kudos: 112





	Losing a Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Thought I'd write something to balance out the happy ending of Learning a Heart, so here you go!

When Julian was younger, he fell into off the back of a boat.

It was before he was made into what he is now, faster, stronger, smarter, _better_, and the cold water had stolen the breath right out of his lungs. Leaving him breathless as he floundered, thrashing his arms and legs desperately to stay afloat. But his clothes weighed him down, dragging him underneath the surface, the muffled screams of his mother drowned out by the water filling his ears.

And right now, at this very moment, he feels as though he is back in that frigid water, hearing Worf speak from above the surface while he sinks steadily deeper into its dark embrace.

_“– resisting arrest, willful endangerment of a Starfleet vessel and its crew, attempted murder of two Starfleet officers, attempted genocide –" _

He wants air, desperately, but thinks that if he opens his mouth he might start screaming. Either that, or he’ll drown.

As they make their way back to the station, he begins to feel less like a drowning man and more like some exotic fish. Trapped behind thick glass and forced to watch as people crowd on the edges of his vision, staring openly as they marvel at his terrible misfortune. As they pity him for being trapped behind the glass, or, as they blame him for it. Jadzia tries to talk to him, but he looks at her lips moving and hears no sound, as though they really are separated by thick slabs of glass, and eventually she seems to realize that. Instead, she simply sits with him as he stares at the infirmary’s walls and tries not to imagine _him_ doing the same a deck below in the brig.

When they finally do dock, he can’t bring himself to leave the ship, because... where is he to go? To their quarters? To the mementos and trinkets scattered about that serve as painful reminders of what has just been ripped away from him? Reminders of what _he_ has done to them? 

Worf finds him in the infirmary a few hours later, and the Klingon shuffles from side to side for quite some time before finally clearing his throat to announce his presence. “Doctor.”

Julian turns to face him, offering a smile that feels fake even to him. “Hello, Worf.” 

“Are you – ” The Klingon hesitates, before pushing forward “- are you alright?”

“Oh, yes,” Julian nods, turning back to face the wall again, “quite alright. Actually, I’m glad you found me. I’ve been meaning to talk to you.”

Worf nods, hands folding into parade rest behind his back. “I assume you wish to discuss – ”

“I realized that I hadn’t thanked you yet,” Julian cuts him off, “I mean, it’s not every day someone saves _my_ life for a change.”

“I was just doing my duty as a Starfleet officer.”

Julian feels a humorless smile tug at the corners of his lips. “Still, I’m grateful. If there’s ever anything I can do for you, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

“That won’t be necessary, but the offer is... appreciated.” Worf seems to hesitate again before continuing in what must be the gentlest tone Julian has ever heard him use. “Do – would you like me to call someone for you? Lieutenant Dax says that you have yet to speak to her about how the events of the past few days have... affected you.”

Julian chuckles. “Well, be sure to tell Dax that when she can recall a lover who attempted to murder her and an entire sentient species then maybe we can talk about it.”

Silence falls over the room, and though he isn’t looking directly at him Julian can practically see how Worf squirms under it. For him, it’s no more oppressive than any other waking moment of these past few days has felt.

Eventually, Worf speaks. “I do not believe it would be wise to relay that message.”

“No, you’re right.” Julian pushes himself up, moving towards the infirmary door. “It probably wouldn’t be.”

“Doctor.”

Julian pauses in the entranceway, “Yes?”

“They… they have already sentenced him.” Worf speaks brusquely, as though he’s doing nothing more than relaying simple facts, streams of data from the Defiant’s scanner readouts, and not adding more stones to the pile already crushing Julian’s chest. “He’s been given six months on a Vulcan penal colony near to Deep Space Nine. If you wanted to speak to him before he left, they’re keeping him in one of the holding cells.”

He closes his eyes, forcing himself to take a deep breath in through his nose. “If I wanted to _speak_ with him?”

“Klingons believe that it is best to face our enemies head on in battle.” Worf doesn’t try to move towards him, simply standing in the centre of the infirmary. “That way there is no room for regrets. I have found -” Worf pauses, stumbling for a moment before continuing “- I have found that other humanoid species, rather than battles left un-fought, prefer not to leave words left unspoken.”

There is a part of him, a vague, incomprehensibly angry part, that wants to howl and rage like a storm whipping up a violent sea. That wants to wipe away any trace of a connection to Garak, to acknowledge the existence of a man that has caused him such heartache. It’s just a damn shame that it’s so small compared to the part of him that wants nothing more than to curl up in Garak’s arms and pretend none of this ever happened.

“Has anyone ever told you, Commander,” Julian sighs, finally opening his eyes, “that you are far too wise for your years?”

“I have heard the phrase before.” Worf replies, and Julian must be going crazy, because he swears for a moment that a hint of a smile tugs at the man’s lips.

Julian gives him a smile that’s closer to being real this time, before turning and heading onto the station and down towards the holding cells.

The station is much worse than being on the Defiant; everyone he passes either stops and openly stares, or whispers to their companions behind a raised hand. As though Julian has been not only blindsided but blinded by it all.

When he arrives at security, Odo does them both the favour of not asking why he’s there. Instead, he simply gets up from his desk and leads him down the corridor to the holding cell they both know he’s there to visit, before turning with a nod and moving towards the exit.

“I didn’t think you’d come.”

Garak doesn’t look at him, keeping his eyes fixed on the wall opposite his bunk in the cell, and for that Julian is almost grateful.

“To tell you the truth, neither did I.”

“And yet, you're here.”

Silence falls over the two of them for a moment, heavy and unbearable.

“Have you come to ask why I did it?”

Julian huffs out a laugh utterly devoid of humor. “No. No, as much as I wish I didn’t, I know why you did it.”

“Really?” Garak looks towards him with a slow turn of his head, a congenial smile spread across his lips – masks upon masks, like it used to be, like the past year never happened. “Then tell me, Doctor, why did I do it?”

Julian smiles at him, congenial, but he never could quite make those fake smiles reach his eyes like Garak could. “The same reason you do anything – for Cardassia.”

“How interesting,” Garak leans forward slightly, tilting his head to the side in a mockery of curiosity, “tell me, why would I sacrifice so much for an Empire that has exiled and humiliated me time and time again?”

“Because for you, that’s what it means to be a good Cardassian.” Julian says, and there’s no anger in his words, just a soft, quiet truth that cuts to the quick of him with each syllable. “Sacrificing everything, everyone, so that the Empire can thrive. I mean, after all, if the great Enabran Tain couldn’t outsmart the Dominion, what chance do the rest of us have? No, better to burn it all in one last rousing blaze of glory – that way the threat to Cardassia is completely neutralized and it can go on being the pinnacle of society and culture in the universe.”

“A solid hypothesis,” Garak almost looks proud of him, and the fact that he probably is has Julian wondering whether to laugh or just turn around and leave, “but what if I were to tell you that you were right on _almost_ all accounts?”

Julian forces his voice to remain neutral. “Well, then, I suppose I might ask you to tell me what I got wrong.”

“I didn’t do this just for Cardassia. My motivation was to bring this war to its ultimately inevitable conclusion with a greatly reduced casualty margin.”

“By murdering an entire race,” Julian says, because that should be more important than _‘by murdering your lover’._

“You think they will be so soft-hearted when the time comes?” Garak snarls, the masks slipping for a moment, before he regains his composure – and he must be more fraught than he appears if he can’t even keep up a pretence for more than five minutes. “They will destroy us, and the few that they spare they will keep as toys to experiment on, and to serve them.”

“So, annihilate before being annihilated, that’s your decision?”

“Oh really, Julian, you can’t still be so naïve – ”

“_Don't _– ” He almost shouts the word, forcing himself to stop before he can continue, taking in deep breaths in, and out. “If it’s all the same to you, I’d prefer we stick to titles.”

Garak doesn’t move for a moment. “That seems... rather formal, considering our level of... intimacy – ”

“Any _intimacy_,” Julian says, his voice carefully controlled, “that you and I shared, was destroyed the second you decided to end all of our lives.”

For some reason, this seems to startle Garak, as though this was the one thing that he hadn’t expected. “Julian – ”

“I will be requesting my old quarters back,” Julian continues, “and will make the necessary arrangements to transfer your belongings back to your old quarters for when you return from your incarceration –”  
  
“Julian, _please,_” Garak stands up, moving towards the cell entranceway, stopping just short of running into the barrier, “can’t we talk about this?”

“You should have thought about talking to me before you decided to try and take my life away,” Julian replies. “As it happens, I’m rather fond of it. And I – ” he forces himself to take a deep, steadying breath “- I was rather fond of the life that I was building with you.”

“Julian – ”

“_Please_,” it comes out as a beg, and he hates himself for it, “I know what you’re going to say and I can’t – ”

“Unless you’ve suddenly become omnipotent in the past few days I don’t see how you could possibly know what I’m going to say – ”

“_Elim_.”

Garak’s mouth closes, his lips pressed together in a thin line, before he’s bursting out with words his body couldn't quite manage to contain. “You knew the sort of man I was before we entered into this, _Doctor. _Don't go losing your nerve on me now.”

“I thought I did,” Julian shakes his head, throat thick with emotions caught in painful thorny tangles, “I’ve spent one of the best years of my life with you, Elim. In fact,” he laughs, the motion causing the tears gathering in his eyes to spill over, “I probably would’ve spent as many years with you as you’d let me.”

Garak doesn’t move, just stares at him like a man drowning at sea – like Julian is holding the only lifeline that can bring him ashore. And as much as he wants to allow himself a vindictive moment to gloat over the fact that he isn’t the only one feeling as such, any satisfaction he feels sours in his stomach like curdled milk.

“I – ” Julian’s voice threatens to break, and he takes a moment to compose himself “- I won’t be visiting you, in case that wasn’t clear. And I – ” he can’t bring himself to look at him as he says the words, closing his eyes instead “- I love you, Elim Garak; and I’m sorry that wasn’t enough for you.”

“Julian –”

He turns on his heel and leaves, ignoring both the shouts that chase him down the corridor, and the way that the last piece of his heart finally shatters.


End file.
